Thursday, September 22, 2005

the language for it is older
than any tongues, any fodder
any odder than that split in half
that moment where we can't
explain
what is in pain
without living it over again
skeletons eat their own
there's ground dust enough
to prove
blood don't give life
as much as soothes
when there's no life left,
no living outside the flesh

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Be kind. Rewind.

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